Stern Words

Excerpt from my book, Bosses and Blackjacks: A Tale of the “Bloody Fifth” in Philadelphia:

It only took Dave five minutes to walk from the station house at Third and Delancey,  but the August heat took its toll. His collar and hatband were soaked through with sweat when he arrived at Deutsch’s shop.

“Mayor Smith told me to come and talk to you about how I can help with the election,” Dave said. He looked over his shoulder to make sure nobody saw him go in.

“Yes. Yes. Good. Come in, Lieutenant,” Ike Deutsch replied. The butcher wiped his palms and the backs of his hands on his blood-splattered apron, and they shook hands. He locked the door to the shop and flipped the “Open” sign to “Closed” after Dave entered. “Let’s go to the back where we can talk in private.” As he pulled his apron off over his…

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Have you ever felt like too many people have their fingers in your pie?

All licking your vitality off their palms as it runs down to their wrists.  They don’t stop to ask permission. They just dip into your allotted 24 hours and sop a bit up for themselves.

Of course, they don’t realize the damage they’re doing. It’s certainly not a group effort.

They are each snatching a crumb of your time without thinking very much about the cumulative affect upon you.


The question is this: Where do you draw the line?


Before the last slice?

The last bit of fruit?

The last crumb?